


Devil's Spoke

by zimothy (orphan_account)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Adventure, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Kaiju Cults, M/M, Mob/Mafia, Slow Build, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/zimothy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between juggling replicated kaiju parts, mob dealings, and an infatuation with one Hannibal Chau, when Newt catches word of a tapestry containing the history and secrets of the kaiju, he can't help but go searching for it. No one ever said he had much common sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I ONLY DID THIS BECAUSE THERE'S NOT ENOUGH NEWTIBAL FIC AND I NEED IT LIKE BURNING.

Newton was desperate. The kaiju were gone, the world was safe, and he had an entire race’s worth of knowledge he needed to explore and only a sparse handful of resources to do it with. Hermann was back home with his wife, the PPDC was practically disbanded, and all Newt really had left were his experiments and a studio apartment that he rarely even used. 

There was only one person in the world that Newt was aware of who had the things he needed, and even though Pentecost had told him never to trust Hannibal Chau, Newt didn’t think he had any other choice.

“Cell replication,” Newt repeated hoarsely, tapping an uneven rhythm on the arm of his chair and staring unblinking at the man on the other side of the desk. Hannibal took a second to stare, hands stroking at his chin thoughtfully before he shook his head.

“It’s impossible, kid,” he barked, gesturing to the paperwork laid out along his desk and then waving a hand in Newt’s general direction. “All we know about that kind of crap is with humans, and they’re still stuck at cloning sheep.... but now you’re telling me you think you can clone a kaiju? It’s--”

“Possible!” Newt interjected, throwing a hand out, “it’s entirely possible! I was there, I saw it. Their race, their entire _world_ was built on the ability to clone and recreate. In their colonies they have these precursors, these masters, right? A-and they _manufacture_ their entire race.” Newt paused, taking a deep breath and glancing to where Hannibal was watching him. He almost wanted to grin a little at how fully he had the other man’s attention, but he was too busy trying to articulate the things into his head into human language. 

“They clone tissue from just a single strand of DNA and the masters, they build more kaiju by fusing the sinew of body parts from other kaiju together. That’s how it works. It just is. And if I can just get the parts I need, if I can do this, it could mean replicating them on a smaller scale. That means no parts go bad and all of them can be used for-”

“And what’s in it for me?” Hannibal sneered, “a couple of skin samples? A fingernail? I can’t make any money off of that crap when you’re hogging the real deal.”  
.  
Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Newt leaned forward until his elbows were resting on his knees. He dropped his voice, fingers splayed in a silent, passive gesture. “If I can do this, you would never run out of kaiju parts to sell for the rest of your life.”

“Bullshit,” Hannibal boomed, leaning back in his chair and gesturing at Newt to continue. “So that’s the deal? I give you what you need and you make me new kaiju? You really that desperate to get involved in this, kid?”

“I don’t think you understand the implications of what I’m saying. This doesn’t end with the kaiju; it’s only the beginning. The kaiju were nothing but _slaves_ for the precursors. Their world, this anteverse, it’s full of things smarter than us and more advanced than we could ever hope to be, and their biggest line of attack is the kaiju. All we did was seal the rift, but I can guarantee you that they are on the other side of the breach, waiting to find a way back here to finish us off for good.”

Hannibal reached up, tugging off his glasses and furrowing his brow. His gaze was intense and focused, like he was trying to pick apart Newt’s brain from sheer force of will alone.

“So you’re telling me this isn’t over?”

Newt shook his head, maybe a little too furiously because his glasses almost knocked right off of his nose. “No, I’m not. I’m just saying that the possibility is there, and we need to be ready when it happens.”

Scratching at his chin, Hannibal waved a hand at Newt. “So you need to learn how to clone these things, why?”

The corner of Newt’s lips quirked up into a tiny grin. “Ever thought about what would happen if you combined a kaiju with a jaeger? ‘Cuz that’s what my goal is; to make the ultimate defense weapon against the precursors and their kaiju clones.”

Hannibal leaned back into his chair, shoving his glasses back on his face and then wiping a palm over his mouth. He looked only mildly overwhelmed, taking a second to process his thoughts before he chuckled and leaned forward with his hand out to shake with Newton’s. “Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’ve got much else to lose. Why the hell not?”

-

In less than a week, Newt’s entire livelihood was moved into a small two-room apartment above a tea shop owned by Hannibal and run by a few of his associates. It was in direct walking distance to Hannibal’s base of operations and kept Newt out of the constant ebb and flow of black market traffic. 

Newt dove into his research before he’d even finished unpacking. He converted the bedroom into a minature lab, leaving the kitchenette and living room to be used as a studio, with a futon shoved in one corner and a coffee table as his only furniture. Newt spent half of his time hunched over a petri dish, and the other half cluelessly wandering about the city in an attempt to shop for things like groceries and toiletries. It was on his third excursion that he ended up lost and wandering Hong Kong for two hours before bumping into one of Hannibal’s associates. She was a thin woman with a shaved head who rarely spoke in English, but often liked to give Newt amused smiles over Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal had called her Daiyu on occasion, always accompanied by a hand gesture or another short command.

“Guppy is lost?”

“Do what?” Newt fumbled with his bag of socks and underwear, the other hand clenching tight to the map in his hand. “Guh-Guppy? No, no I’m not a guppy. I’m Newt. _Newt_. It’s short for Newton.”

Daiyu frowned, glancing up and then around before barking something in Cantonese to her associate. They bickered for a second and then the man, one Newt didn’t recognize, said in broken English. “You look for Hannibal?”

‘What? No. I’m not looking-- I’m trying to find groceries. Food? Shopping?” Newt held up his bag giving it a shake and then miming the act of eating something. The two looked at one another, exchanged another few words, and then Daiyu pulled out her cell phone.

After a second, it was being thrust in his face. Newt almost dropped his map in an attempt to take it, bringing it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“What’re you lookin’ for, kid?” Hannibal asked sharply on the other line. Newton choked on air, hand coming up to push his glasses back up on his face from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.

“I-- uhh... food? I can’t read any of the street signs, I think I’m a little lost.”

“I got that from the part where I get a phone call saying you’re in the middle of the red light district with a bag of clothes and a map. What else do you need besides food?”

“Uhm,” Newton dug a hand into his pocket, grabbing his meager list and rattling off a few items he needed around his apartment, as well as some needed for his research.

Hannibal hummed, going quiet for a second. “All right. Give her the phone back... and next time? Don’t go out alone.”

Newton did so without a word, watching as the woman spoke to Hannibal for a moment longer before hanging up and taking Newt’s elbow. Within two hours, he had everything he needed with more money leftover in his pocket than he could have anticipated. He was almost positive that Hannibal’s men had haggled with half the shop owners, considering the fact that a few of the clerks had looked a little haggard by the time Newt had come up with his purchases.

They dropped him back off at his apartment afterwards, Daiyu taking a moment to teach Newt a proper farewell before they slipped off down the street and disappeared in the throng of a crowd.

Hannibal was the only person other than Newt who had a key to the second floor of the tea shop, even though he’d yet to use it in the few weeks that Newt had moved in--other than to check in on Newt’s research and to make sure there were no complications. That was partially why Newt let out a horrid, deafening screech when his front door opened while he’d been in the middle of pouring himself a mug of long-cooled coffee with nothing on but his boxers. 

Standing in the doorway, Hannibal watched Newt fumble to keep from dropping his coffee pot, shutting the door behind himself with a loud click. Newt put the pot back onto the counter, feeling exposed in his own home, and then shuffled sideways until he was hidden partially behind the kitchen counter. “Uh, good morning?” he squeaked, clearing his throat and bending his knees a little to try and hide more of his body. It wasn’t that he was ashamed--sure, he had a little pudge and his entire body, including legs, were covered in tattoos--but more that he felt a little vulnerable when faced with a man who practically ran the entire black market of Hong Kong.

“Afternoon, more like,” Hannibal corrected, glancing at his watch and then looking back over to Newt. “You slept any?”

“Sleep?” Newt’s voice cracked and he blinked furiously before shaking his head. “No, I haven’t had time. I’m in the middle of finishing a tissue sample that--”

Hannibal brought a hand up to silence him and Newt’s mouth shut with a clack of teeth. “Go put some pants on, first.”

“Oh, right,” Newt scrambled for the bathroom, rooting around for a pair of sweats that weren’t covered in kaiju or food stains. He shoved his legs into them, tying the drawstring and then coming back into the room to see Hannibal setting up a fresh pot of coffee to brew. 

Newt took a second to really let his sleep-deprived brain register the situation. Hannibal Chau was standing in his tiny kitchen, surrounded by blue floral wallpaper, one thick hand futzing with the on switch to his coffee maker. His suit--dark forest green with a brown vest and matching green tie--clashed a little horrifically with the room as a whole. He looked too large, like a giant in a kitchen made for humans.

Newt had to blink away disbelief before he could even come back into the kitchen. There was a small bar connected to the other side of the counter with one stool that had a rip in the top. He sat on it, leaning on his elbows and watching Hannibal dump out the cold, day-old coffee from Newt’s mug, rinse it, and set it down next to the hissing and bubbling coffee maker. 

“Okay,” Hannibal began, gesturing at Newt. “Continue.”

With that, Newt instantly dove into a detailed explanation of tissue cloning and how it was the first step into replicating actual body parts and organs, including the significance it would have with Hannibal’s future business. 

Somehow, the topic strayed from the cloning itself to the kaiju as a species--not that Newt had any complaints. It had been years since he’d found someone interested in them enough to actually discuss the finer points. 

“So you’re saying they’re identical clones? That doesn’t make any sense--each one is different, they were categorized _because_ of that.” Hannibal pointed out, seated on one end of Newt’s beaten up futon and nursing a cooling mug of coffee. 

“See, that’s exactly it. Technically, they _are_ identical. The DNA is the same throughout every single one of them. Their appearances and the focus of their power is all manufactured by the precursors. Each time a kaiju came to earth, they were learning. They got better at cloning, and the kaiju got stronger.” Newt sat up, setting his mug on the coffee table and holding his hands out. “Look, the anteverse where they come from doesn’t have animals like the ones on earth, right?”

“Right,” Hannibal nodded, looking skeptical all the same. 

Newt grinned a little, feeling a rush that only came from having a conversational partner who was actively interested in the discussion topic. “So theoretically, it would make no sense for any of them to look like our animals, but they do. They all did; gorilla, shark, crab, iguana--now, the kaiju are an amphibious race, but that doesn’t explain _why_ they look like earth animals.”

“Trespasser didn’t look like anythin’ I’ve ever seen,” Hannibal argued, shaking his head. Newt’s smile, if possible, grew even bigger.

“That’s just it. Trespasser was the first. The first out of all of them, the blank slate. Just listen to this--” Newt pushed himself up against the futon, pulling his legs up so that they were crossed under his body and his knee was brushing Hannibal’s thigh. “Six days. For six days, Trespasser was tearing across the coast. That’s six days of taking in the environment, of studying what earth has become. The entire time this is happening, there’s an open channel to the masters and the other kaiju, telling them exactly what is on earth and what they have to face.”

“So you’re tellin’ me you think the whole reason the kaiju looked different was because their creators were trying to model them after a bunch of animals?”

“It’s assimilation in it’s best form!” Newt exclaimed, voice cracking a little from the strain. 

“It’s a load of crap, is what it is,” Hannibal countered, but there was a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth, one Newt couldn’t help but think was reserved only for him and no one else.

-

Though Newton’s initial arrival into Hannibal’s world had happened around early fall, by winter time, with the air cooling down to breathable temperatures, Newt had successfully begun to produce samples of kaiju bone marrow and fully formed scales. Each one he created, Hannibal had eagerly whisked away to sell to the highest bidder. It was a routine that Newt was quickly becoming accustomed to, one that he didn’t particularly mind when Hannibal would reward him with grins and hidden words of praise any time Newt was able to bring him anything worth a pretty penny in the black market. 

It wasn’t often that Hannibal changed up their routine, which was why Newt was endlessly confused when he was summoned to Hannibal’s office in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. They usually spoke in the early morning or in the evening, outside of business hours. For Newt to come into the shop during a high point of the day was extremely uncommon.

There was a small cluster of men and women hovering in the large circle that made up the main entrance when he showed up in a pair of sweatpants and an oxford shirt that he’d hastily thrown on to keep from embarrassing Hannibal _too_ much. Newt bypassed them, instead making his way to Hannibal’s office, knocking once and then letting himself in.

“Uh, I got your text?” Newt held up his phone, Hannibal’s message of ‘ _come over here_ ’ still visible on the small screen. 

Hannibal got up from his desk, gesturing for Newt to come closer as he approached. Newt found himself manhandled into a tight, one armed hold. Hannibal held him tight into his side, guiding Newt back for the door. “I need you to talk to these kaiju freaks for me.”

“I-what? Me??” Newt squeaked, trying to backpedal and failing miserably. 

“They’re paying for us to tell them anything we know on the kaiju. You know a damn lot and it’s about time you earned your keep outside of giving me skin samples and bone marrow every week.” Hannibal grinned, giving Newt a friendly jostle that made his head spin. His grin fell quickly though, hand holding the doorknob but not opening it just yet.

“These guys are in one of those cults, so don’t breathe a single word about drifting, you hear me? The second these guys find out something like that, you’re mince meat.”

“Oh-okay,” Newt made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, letting Hannibal guide him back out the door and towards the small cluster of people They were swathed in green and blue robes, faces covered in cracked-looking tattoos similar to some of the markings that a few kaiju had sported. Newt didn’t have the heart to tell them that those cracks were really just fissures in the skin where excess energy would leak out due to the clash of atmospheres that came from leaving the anteverse and coming to earth.

“What’s up, guys?” Newt grinned, waving a hand, “what can I do for ya?”

Hannibal shook his head, stepping away to see to some other transaction going on between a client and one of his associates. As Newt was bombarded with question after question regarding the kaiju, Hannibal made sure to never truly leave the room--always keeping Newt within earshot. 

Most of their questions were in regards to basic kaiju functions; breathing (they’re amphibious), reproduction (they’re clones), social interaction (hive mind), and hierarchy (the lowest of the low, basically their world’s equivalent of a minimum wage worker). Nearly a half hour had gone by before Newt realized he was being trapped into conversation with them--that they were trying to milk him dry of everything he knew. 

“How do you know so much?” One asked, a thin man with a heavy brow and paler skin than most of his associates. 

“I’m a scientist-- I worked on kaiju biology for years. it’s kind of my job to know this stuff. Why do you need to know it?”

The man hesitated, looking to the others for a moment. He had on a headdress, one with a flat, vertical brim that reminded Newt of a stylized interpretation of Trespasser’s skull structure. After a second, he spoke--though quiet and hurried. “We are in search of our scripture; it is a tapestry that tells us the history of our gods, the secrets of their world.”

If Newt were capable of it, his ears would have perked up instantly. “A tapestry? What, you mean like a mural?”

Another pause, and then a tall woman spoke up from her place near the back of the group. “Our matriarch sent us here in search of information to better assist us in finding it. It’s never in the same place for very long, and the most we know is what we are able to find from our brothers and sisters.”

“I see,” Newt crossed his arms together, hugging himself a little and nodding seriously. The fanatics had always creeped him out a little, but it wasn’t like he could say ‘hey, you guys are giving me the heebie jeebies, could you leave?’. 

As if by some miracle, Hannibal practically materialized at his side, clasping a thick hand against Newt’s shoulder. “I think you all have learned enough, hm? If you’ll step over there, you can discuss payment with one of my associates.”

No one had time to protest before Hannibal was practically manhandling Newt towards the door. Once it shut behind then, Hannibal finally spoke. “Don’t get too involved with those guys; what part of ‘they’re a cult’ did you not understand?”

“I was asking from a scientific standpoint! They could have access to something about the kaiju that--” Newt cut off with a soft hiss when Hannibal cuffed him gently across the head. He rubbed at his scalp, glowering up at Hannibal as he was led down the street towards his apartment. 

Newt wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow Hannibal went from taking him home, to staying for a few hours to discuss the development of his research, to lounging at his dinner table while Newt attempted to fix them both something to eat. In all honesty, he had almost nothing to eat except some leftover chili that he’d tossed together the day before, and some cheap noodles. He decided to go with the chili, adding in cheese and sour cream and a few crackers that he hoped didn’t seem too stale. 

Every time Newt was around Hannibal, he always found out something new. This time, was that Hannibal was apparently a _massive_ fan of good old fashioned chili, given the way he practically inhaled the entire bowl, crackers included. Newton nearly choked on his own food when he realized that, in a way, it was kind of cute to see Hannibal so enthusiastic about food. 

It was one thing to add to Newt’s growing mental list of ‘facts about Hannibal Chau’. On that list so far were things like how Hannibal was mostly blind in his left eye, and that he needed a separate pair of reading glasses when doing paperwork or even reading the label on a pill bottle. There was also the fact that Hannibal hated American customers, and also that he was scarily good at solitaire. 

Sometimes there were days where Newt wanted to ask him about his eye, about his past and about the tattoos that he knew were hidden beneath suit collars and cuffs. The need was so bad it was like the words were ready to vibrate out of his skin some days. He didn’t, though, because if there was one thing he’d learned from living around Hannibal all these months, it was to avoid prying and instead to wait for the answers to come to him. 

In most cases, Newt got his answer one way or another, usually in short and random bursts where Hannibal would blurt things like, “I can’t stand these godamn mushrooms. They taste just like the crap I ate back in ‘11. I was hallucinating for hours because some moron couldn’t tell the difference between the kind you cook and the kind you give your junkie girlfriend.”

Most of the time, though, it always left Newt bursting with more questions than ever before.

He was so lost in his thoughts that, at some point, he’d finished his own food and was left staring at the empty bowl. Hannibal was across the table, wiping a napkin across his lips and along his palms. “Haven’t had chili like that since I was a kid. It’s been a long time since just one bowl filled me up,” he mused, shooting Newt a smile. “Good stuff, guppy.”

“Oh no,” Newt groaned, dropping his head into his palms. “Not you too.”

Hannibal’s laughter was loud and booming, echoing through the room and sounding so openly amused that it left Newt’s stomach fluttering in a way that Newt was terrified to really think about. By the time Hannibal’s laughter dissolved into chuckling, Newt was feeling his face burn red hot. He watched Hannibal stand, getting up as well.

“No, seriously. The guppy name has got to go. Talk to your henchmen about that one, okay?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hannibal offered, though he didn’t sound like he was going to do much about it, and clapped Newt roughly on the shoulder, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. “Try not to stay up too late with the experiments, we have a few errands to run tomorrow.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Newton echoed sarcastically, giving Hannibal an innocent smile before watching him head out the door. 

It wasn’t long after Hannibal left and Newt was alone with his thoughts that his mind started to wander back to the tapestry. The entire concept bugged him--because that was something so phenomenal and huge, something that could help his research even more, and he had never even heard of it until earlier that day. It was like an itch that he wasn’t allowed to scratch at, a plethora of knowledge waiting for Newt to find.

If anything, the cultists would ruin it, Newt was almost positive. They were a bunch of mindless followers who would never truly appreciate the potential of an object that was practically an encyclopedia to the kaiju themselves. If anything, they’d just take the tapestry and lock it away somewhere to worship at or something, which Newt absolutely could not allow to have happen.

First, he called Hermann, their conversation stilted and full of thinly-veiled insults about Newt’s standards of living and his choice of friends, though they did touch on a few theories about the tapestry before Hermann had to leave to take his daughter to school. After that, he held a short and apologetic phone conversation with Mako after having woken her up, and then realized he had no one else from the Shatterdome to call. There was just Marshal Hansen and Tendo left, and Newt had a feeling they wouldn’t appreciate being called at such ridiculous hours. 

At first, Newt just wanted to check in on some old kaiju forums he’d once frequented. One minute, he was up and awake, frantically exchanging theories with one of his old friends, and the next, he was waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the clink of a mug being placed next to his head.

Newt snapped his eyes open, jerking up and almost flinging his papers and laptop from the table when he realized Hannibal was standing right next to him. He sucked in a sharp, tired breath, blinked a few times, and then reached for the coffee with an almost zombie-like determination.

Sipping at it slowly, Newt tried to focus his eyes on the time in the corner of his laptop, frustrated to see that he must have fallen asleep a couple hours ago. 

“I thought I told you not to stay up too late,” Hannibal said, surveying the disaster that was formerly known as Newt’s dining table. He picked up a nearby map, frowning at the markings and illegible scrawl all over it.

“I wasn’t going to,” Newt began, yawning, “but then I had a fix.” A fix being what Hannibal had decided to call Newt’s state of mind where he would focus on an idea or theory and go at it ceaselessly until his body exhausted itself, he made a breakthrough, or someone forced him to eat and sleep. 

“I’m startin’ to see that,” Hannibal flipped the map over, reading Newt’s notes on the back and frowning. “Mind telling me what this fix was about?”

Lifting his head, Newt blinked owlishly at Hannibal. “I’m gonna find that tapestry.”

The look Hannibal gave him was a mixture of incredulity and exasperation. Newt recognized that face, it was one he was the cause of more often than not.

With a sigh, Hannibal set the map down. “Go on. I know you’re dyin’ to tell me.”

Newt grinned so wide it nearly hurt his face.


	2. Chapter 2

He spread the map across the coffee table, bringing one hand up to scratch at two-day stubble and then squinting down at the markings he’d etched all over it the night before. Hannibal was sitting on the couch, one leg crossed at the ankle over his other knee and his arms draped along the back of the couch. He somehow looked imposing and relaxed all at once, watching Newt fuss with a quirk in the corner of his lips.

“Okay, so basically the main areas to look at would be around here; Mong Kok, this whole area right here? That’s where Otachi fell, and that’s where they’re saying the tapestry was created.”

Hannibal nodded to show he was listening, signalling with his fingers for Newt to continue. 

Newt took a breath, blinking tiredly and grinning, “Right, so this is where it starts to get confusing. Some people say the tapestry was made there, but if that was the truth, who was alive to make it? Hermann and I were the only ones there--well,” Newt paused, making a face, “Technically, you were also there.”

Instead of a snide remark or backhanded comment like what Newt would have received from Hermann, Hannibal only bared his teeth in what could have been a smile but was probably something a little more menacing. Newt swallowed heavily, heart palpitating for a second when his mind flashed to the idea of those teeth on his skin. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing himself to stare back at the map with a detached feeling of horror. For second, Newt tried to gather his thoughts, index finger beating a mad rhythm on the table and chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Okay... so anyway... I’m thinking, wherever this thing came from, it was probably out of the danger zone. We’re not really sure what it is, right? I mean, what if it’s just a part of a kaiju? Otachi and Gipsy tore all the way from one end of Hong Kong to the next. It could be anything!”

“So what are you suggesting? You want me to have my men run all over the town looking for some artifact or organ that may or may not exist?” Hannibal reached up, tugging his glasses off and pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe at the lenses.He brought them up to the light, squinting for a second and then slipping them back on after he was satisfied, “That’s not exactly in our contract.”

Newt blinked owlishly, lips parted slightly as he gaped for a second, “I was just gonna go on my own?” He offered timidly, like it suddenly seemed foolish to have assumed Hannibal wouldn’t be willing to help him out, “It’s just research in another form?”

Hannibal frowned, but Newt barreled on, “So what I was saying earlier was that if I were to spread out the search radius, you know, to places like Kowloon Tong and Tsing Yi, and see if the stories there match up to what we know so far. So I mean, okay the whole point of this was--how much of Otachi’s wings did you harvest?”

“All of it, why?” Hannibal asked sharply, either because he didn’t like to have his business ability questioned, or he was under the impression that Newt needed some of it and assumed he wouldn’t be able to provide; Newt was almost positive it was the former.

With a tiny squint, Newt gave Hannibal a skeptical look, “Are you sure?”

Though all Newt could really see in Hannibal’s reaction was the scowl in his lips, he was pretty sure he was being glowered at. It would have been a pout on anyone else, but on Hannibal the expression looked like he was ready to flip out his balisong and cut Newt’s entire nose off. 

Realizing that he was probably starting to test Hannibal’s patience, Newton cleared his throat, fumbling to get his laptop, “So I talked to a few people last night, like, did you know they have entire forums dedicated to kaiju? They do. It’s a thing, apparently--”

“Guppy, get to the point,” Hannibal interrupted, using Newt’s loathed new nickname just to get a rise out of him. 

Newt didn’t take the bait, instead logging into his laptop and pulling up the forum he’d been on the night before, “So, where was I? Oh, so we think--well, _I_ think that the tapestry might actually be kaiju skin? We’re going with Otachi, and I think it might be possible that they’re using her wings to make this thing. The wing is a sign of evolution to them--now, _we_ know that it technically isn’t, but we’re not the majority here-- so it would make sense that it’s viewed as some kind of access point into understanding the kaiju further. What’s on the wing is what we want to know...at least, that’s what I’ve figured out.”

“How much sleep did you get, again?” Hannibal glanced at his watch, stretching his arm out to edge his sleeve up and then getting a second, longer look. 

Newt narrowed his eyes, losing focus for a moment as he tried to calculate what time he must have fallen asleep.

“Forty minutes?”

“Christ, kid,” Hannibal brought a hand to his face, dragging it down with the look of a parent who was entirely done with their child’s behavior. 

When Newt wasn’t met with any more immediate reprimand, he grinned just the tiniest bit. “Okay, so yeah, I want to go back to where Otachi fell. It wasn’t far from here, it’s, what, ten minutes away? If I can just get an idea, maybe talk to a few people-”

“Take Xue and Hui Zhong with you,” Hannibal stood, adjusting his tie nonchalantly like he hadn’t offered some of his best associates to be practical babysitters.

“What?” Newt asked dumbly.

Hannibal walked around the coffee table with short, heavy strides. Newt watched him, turning his body until his head was craning up at an awkward angle when Hannibal reached his side. Hannibal clapped a heavy hand to his shoulder, squeezing it just shy of painfully. 

“You’re my cash cow, kid. I’m not letting you out there on your own.” Hannibal pulled out his phone, hitting a few buttons and bringing it to his ear.

“...But you said you didn’t want any of your guys helping me...” Newt murmured. 

Hannibal took a second to speak to the other person on the line in sharp Cantonese that Newt could only hope to understand one day. He hung up the phone, tucking it into his breast pocket.

“I said I wouldn’t give ‘em all to you. I can spare one or two.”

“Oh.”

Hannibal chuckled and clapped Newt’s shoulder before he headed over to the door and opened it, letting in a petite woman with purple hair and a thick-necked man who looked like he could break walnuts with just his pinky fingers. 

After exchanging a few words with them, Hannibal turned to Newt. “You got eight hours. I want you back here by nightfall. Got that?”

Newt could only sit there and nod like an idiot, mind a flurry of confusion and half-formed theories trying to reason Hannibal’s behavior. 

Hannibal gave him a short, fleeting grin, turning to leave when Newt’s mind finally caught up and he flailed for a second and stumbled forward. “Wait!” Newt caught Hannibal by the elbow, tugging gently. 

Turning, Hannibal looked from the hand on his arm to Newt’s face. “Somethin’ you need?”

“Uh, yes?” Newt pulled his hand back, wiping it awkwardly on his chest. That’s when he remembered that he hadn’t showered since the day before, and that he was in clothes that could probably use a wash or three because there was no way they couldn’t smell the fact that Newt had been too busy researching to remember personal hygiene. He shuffled back a little, running his tongue over the front of his teeth and hoping his breath wasn’t too awful. 

When Newt didn’t continue right away, Hannibal lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”

Newt cleared his throat, glancing down at his bare feet and then back up at Hannibal. “Could you, uh, give me a list of any stores in your... circle of expertise that would uh, sell books?”

“What book’re you lookin’ for?” Hannibal asked, tucking his hands into his suit pockets. “I got plenty back at the office.”

“It’s not a specific book, it’s the dealers. I think there’s a chance the tapestry might actually be a book? Otachi’s wings are more like cow or deer hide, right? So, theoretically, someone could have turned it into a book by tanning and stretching it--and that just makes a lot more sense than a giant painting holding secrets, wouldn’t you say?”

Hannibal pursed his lips to the side, like he was trying not to grin. “I don’t know why you’re askin’ me, kid. You’re the expert, aren’t you?”

“I am!” Newt blurted, “I mean, I just wanted a little verification, you know?”

“I’m not gonna call you crazy,” Hannibal said, voice suddenly soft, “I ain’t gonna call you stupid either. You know the kaiju better than any of us, so don’t second guess yourself so much.”

The back of Newt’s throat made a clicking noise when he swallowed, face burning for a second before his mouth twisted into a painful, brilliant smile that he knew made him look like a complete lunatic. There were so many words in his head, but the sense of elation--of stupid, uncontrollable pride--was so strong he couldn’t even articulate. Hannibal chuckled, reaching for the door again. “Eight hours, no more,” he reminded, leaving Newt alone in the room with Xue and Hui Zhong.

Hannibal must have texted them, because the first place that he was taken was to a tiny shop hidden on a corner that was easy to overlook had they not been heading straight for it. There was no bell over the door, but there was an older gentleman behind the counter, writing something down in a booklet when they walked in. 

Xue spoke first, gesturing to Newt and mentioning Hannibal and something involving repayment. Newt was able to pick up a few words here and there, but only because he’d been around Hannibal and his associates for so long that it wasn’t hard to catch a few words in Cantonese that were spoken often. The shopkeeper held up a hand, interrupting her in rapid Mandarin in a way that implied he was unwilling or unable to speak any other dialect. Newt felt awkward and out of place, peering around at some of the books and trinkets on display while Xue and the shopkeeper started to talk in Mandarin. 

There was an incense burning in a corner, bits of smoke curling up and making Newt’s nose itch from the cloying scent of lavender and sandalwood. It didn’t really help that there were no windows and the fan overhead was rotating lazily and just barely circulating the air. He stepped to the side, browsing the shelves closest to the door, bringing a finger up and tapping at a small terrarium with an odd looking snake with two tails curled up inside. It didn’t react, and so Newt continued on with his exploration.

He was reaching for an old, dusty book with “PLAGUES THROUGH HISTORY” on the side in bright yellow font when he caught sight of a miniature replica of Scissure resting on one of the nearby shelves, all eight inches of glorious detail that took his breath away. He shuffled over, picking it up and taking a second to admire the craftsmanship when the shop owner started to shout, looking ready to leap over the counter and strangle Newton. Newt fumbled with the figurine, almost dropping it and then quickly setting it on the shelf as the shopkeep started to argue with Xue again.

Even with his limited knowledge of Chinese, Newt had enough insults slung his way to catch onto when the issue revolved around him being white, and nothing more. It had a lot to do with the way the black market operated, how outsiders were frowned upon. It was a wonder how Hannibal had crawled his way to the top--though Newt had seen first hand the way he controlled operations with an iron fist and absolutely no mercy for those who disrespected him and his own. Not wanting things to escalate, despite Xue and Hui Zhong’s insistence to get the man to comply, Newt shuffled towards the door. 

Apparently he didn’t shuffle subtly enough, because Hui Zhong caught sight of him, reaching out to snag him by the scruff of his jacket and dragging him to the counter to point. There was a lot of Hannibal’s name being tossed about, and the shopkeeper was looking frazzled enough that he seemed ready to give in, but Newt wiggled his way free.

“You know, I don’t think this guy has what we need. Can we get going?”

Xue, somehow, managed to twist her head all the way around to stare at him without even moving her body. She stared with practical daggers in her eyes, lips pursed into a thin line. After a beat, she stepped away from the counter, shooting a last remark to the man before hustling Newt out the door. 

Instead of letting Hui Zhong or Xue take the lead, Newt guided them towards the Church of the Breach. He knew some of the worshippers would be in mass, but if he could at least get a few moments with the matriarch, it might help give him an idea of what he was searching for. The building itself was inside the skull of Reckoner--the very kaiju that had destroyed the city, only to have all of it rebuilt over the monster’s corpse years and years later.

Part of Newt was convinced that the reason that so many of them were out of their minds was because the level of radioactive residue and ammonia still clinging to the inside of the skull was likely affecting all of them in more ways than they realized. 

The flag out front was half-mast, which meant that there was a group worship in session, but Newt didn’t particularly care how many folks on pilgrimages were visiting, because he needed some answers. They were passing under the awning of the skull when Newt caught sight of a large, black print of a kaiju foot. He was pretty sure that it wasn’t actually one specific kaiju that the artist had been going for, but the sentiment was there. 

With temple in session, it wasn’t hard to locate the matriarch--who was sitting in one of the front pews with her fellow churchgoers flanking either side of her petite body. He knelt down, bringing his palms together and bringing them away from his face like he was mimicking the outline of Knifehead’s long, pointed nose. In all honesty, he had no idea if he was even doing the gesture properly because he was only doing what he had seen churchgoers do in greeting to one another on a few separate occasions.

She seemed satisfied with this, nodding once to let Newt know she was willing to let him speak. He didn’t really understand a lot of the mentality that came with those in the Church of the Breach, but he knew enough to get by without insulting them and inevitably pissing them off. 

“You sent some of your followers to talk to me the other day,” Newt whispered, leaning to the side so that Xue could hear him and provide a translation. “I wanted to know if you’ve found anything else out on the tapestry they spoke of.”

After Xue finished talking, they waited for the matriarch to answer. She pursed her lips, blinking up at the priest who spoke to the followers as a whole, and folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t speak, though, instead remaining silent. Newt shifted, opting to try again. “If you help me find it, I can give it to the church once I’m done with my research. I’m not a collector, just a scientist.”

When they were given another long and painful bout of silence, Newt tried another tactic. “What can you tell me about the print in the archway? The kaiju foot?”

Xue gave him an odd look, but translated. The matriarch bobbed her head knowingly and Newt’s heart sped up in anticipation and excitement, practically bouncing on his heels from where he was crouched in front of the pew. 

She opened her mouth, yawning softly before nodding again sleepily and making a gesture at Newt and Xue like she wanted them to leave. Newt gaped for a second, sighing and dropping his head when he realized she wasn’t actually going to give them any answers. Yet another bust.

He stood, and they made their way out of the church with almost no one paying them any regard. Newt dug his map from his back pocket, staring at it with a scowl. A bit of wind picked up from the north and he zipped his coat up before hopping down the steps with Xue and Hui Zhong in tow. “I know I’ve seen that marking somewhere,” he mused, trying to backtrack his mind into placing where exactly he’d noticed the kaiju foot marking, but his mind came up blank. 

Xue silently and suddenly grabbed the back of his coat, tugging him to the right when Newt tried to go left. He didn’t even protest, letting himself be led along as he tried to mentally back-track the places he’d been in the past week in hopes of remembering where he’d seen the marking. She pulled him in and out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, only stopping to push open the door to a small noodle shop. 

At some point, Newt must have been pulled out of his thoughts enough to order, because he was halfway through shoving another mouthful of lamian in his mouth when his brain finally came back online.

“Hey--” Newt swallowed his mouthful, frowning at Xue and Hui Zhong, who continued to eat without even looking up. “I didn’t even say I was hungry... how did you know? I was kind of starving, actually.”

Xue chewed on a bit of stewed beef, licking sauce from her lips and saying softly in her thick accent, “Boss said to make sure you eat. Said you get cranky when you are hungry.”

“Oh,” Newt responded intelligently, half of him wanting to think into the implications of what Xue was saying, and the other half wanting to participate in his favorite pastime of avoiding the situation and hiding himself in his research until it went away. He wasn’t good with people, they were too complicated--too messy, unlike the kaiju. The kaiju were something he knew, something he could understand in ways that he’d never managed with his own race. 

Neither Hui Zhong or Xue really brought Hannibal up again, instead eating in silence and letting Newt toss out a few theories he’d come up with about the tapestry as they continued to eat. When Newt went to pull his wallet to cover his half of the bill, Hui Zhong shook his head, pulling out a handful of notes that had, most likely, come from Hannibal, and went to pay for all of them.

They headed to one of the other bookstores that Hannibal must have told them about, this one larger and with so many odds and ends that Newt was practically tripping over himself to get a look at it all. Xue shadowed him while Hui Zhong stayed by the door, and Newt practically made circuits around the room, scribbling down interesting book titles onto the back of his map to look into later, and having to push his glasses back up his nose at least three times from how quickly he was glancing up and down the shelves. 

By the time Newt circled around back to the front, there was an attendant standing behind the class display case that made up the register area. She was around Newt’s height, hair in pigtails and a street fashion magazine open on the counter in front of her that she flipped through lazily. Newt approached her, leaning against the counter and grinning. “Nihao, shao jie,” he greeted, hoping he wasn’t butchering the words too much. It was the same thing that Hannibal said when he was speaking to some of the younger female customers. 

Instead of getting a greeting back, she pulled the pen from behind her ear to reveal a small knife. Newt shrieked when she stabbed it through his smiling lips, the blade dull and cold against the corner of his mouth. She leaned in, ignoring the way Xue and Hui Zhong had rushed to Newt’s side, and said cooly and in perfect English, “watch your tongue, before I cut it from your mouth.”

“Unnhkayh,” Newt managed around the knife, curling his tongue back when it pressed against the edge of the blade. She seemed satisfied and pulled the weapon back, tucking it behind her ear once more so that it went back to looking like a regular, unassuming pen. Newt took a second to get his bearings back, flustered when he caught the sound of Xue’s laughter from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, glowering when she gave him a helpless shrug. 

“What do you want?” The girl asked, narrowing her eyes at Newt and then his two companions. “I don’t sell to foreigners.”

“I--” Newt cleared his throat, tongue flapping for a second to try and rid himself of the ghost-feel of a blade still in his mouth, “I work for Hannibal Chau, I’m not a foreigner.”

“He’s white, you’re white. You’re both foreigners,” she pointed out, “and either you’re a sexist pig, or you don’t even know what you said to me earlier. Which is it?”

“I.... am totally a foreigner, I am so sorry,” Newt blurted, holding his hands up passively. His entire day seemed to be one mistake after the other--had he been any less stubborn, Newt might have given up on his search by now. The girl took a second to stare, rolling her eyes and closing her magazine.

“What do you want?” She repeated. 

“A book?” Newt’s voice cracked a little and he swallowed before trying again. “I’m looking for a book, about kaiju. It’s like, the bible of kaiju, right? Hannibal sent me here to look for it.”

After a beat, the girl sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have much on the kaiju. After the breach was sealed, a lot of our kaiju inventory was bought out. I do have a book that came in the other day, though,” she slipped out from behind the counter, leading Newt and Xue down a few shelves and into a small nook area where there was a locked glass case full of books--some aged and others boasting titles of tomes that Newt had thought had gone missing years and years ago. 

She tapped the case, above a thick book with a dark cover. “Binding made from Leatherback’s hide, but everything in the book is mostly fairytales and short stories about the kaiju.”

Newt leaned in so close his nose pressed against the glass. The girl slipped a finger between his forehead and the glass, pushing his face away and making a face over the fact that she’d touched him. Newt ignored it, instead staring at her with wide eyes. He was pretty sure this wasn’t the tapestry he was looking for--but it was still something that he _needed_ to have.

“How much?” Newt croaked, trying not to sound too desperate.

“One million.”

“Yuans, or Hong Kong Dollars?”

“American Dollars,” she corrected smugly, apparently enjoying the choking sound Newt made before he turned to look at Xue and Hui Zhong for assistance.

Hui Zhong shook his head and Xue gave Newt a look that clearly read ‘nice try, but no’.

“What about a payment plan?” Newt offered, “I mean, my boss is your main kaiju supplier, isn’t he? I could--” 

“No.”

Newt sobbed, just a little, and it was more of a huffing noise than an actual sob. He turned to the glass case, pressing his hand against it and wishing he could just make his hand phase through the glass so that he could grab the book and run.

“Stop touching it,” the girl snapped, “you’re making the glass dirty.”

Dropping his hand, Newt dug into his pocket, knowing he didn’t have nearly the amount of money needed for the book. He could always call Hannibal--

That’s what he’d do. 

“Hang on one sec,” he held up a hand, grabbing his cell phone and stepping away to make the call.

Hannibal picked up on the second ring with a sharp, “you get lost again?” that sounded more of a teasing jab than actual sincerity. 

“How long would it take for me to earn a million dollars?”

“Come again?”

“There’s this book, it’s a kaiju _fairytale_ book, Hannibal. _I want it_ ,” he breathed, glancing up to look absently out the window of the bookstore. Hannibal was quiet for a second, and then he was laughing, loud and hard, in Newt’s ear.

“Aren’t you already lookin’ for a book?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I should overlook an opportunity when it presents itself,” Newton tried not to raise his voice, but it still came off a little screechy despite how hard he tried. His eyes caught a glimpse of something from the window and he locked on the sight of a man walking by in a dark green jacket with the sleeves pushed up and his arm covered in the same exact black kaiju marking as the one from the temple.

“Kid, if you can start making bigger samples than these ones you’ve been giving me right now--”

“I gotta go,” Newt interrupted, not even bothering to wait for Hannibal to actually acknowledge him before he was running for the door. He flung it open, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and running after the man just as he disappeared into the crowd. 

Unlike in films, it was nearly impossible to keep track of a single person in a massive and constantly moving crowd of pedestrian traffic. Newt was constantly ducking and shoving to try and follow the man with the kaiju print tattoo until he found himself lost in the middle of a rundown part of the city full of graffiti and unfamiliar signs. He was also without Xue or Hui Zhong, and had lost sight of the man he’d been tracking.

“This is the worst day,” Newt muttered despondently to himself, turning in a circle to try and remember where he’d come from. He had been so focused on the man he’d been following that he hadn’t thought to remember his steps. Pulling his phone out, Newt stared down at the two missed calls from Hannibal and the three from Xue. He went to dial Hannibal back when three men started to approach, looking to be somewhere in their early to mid twenties. Newt glanced between them, licking his lips nervously when they started to ask him questions in Cantonese.

Panicking, Newt blurted, “I work for Hannibal Chau,” in a desperate bid to try and get them to back off. The three looked between one another, chatting for a second before the one in the middle stepped forward. He was the shortest, with a shorn head and a jutting collarbone that contrasted with the muscled curves of his shoulders. He was shirtless, even in the cooler winter weather, with his jeans slung low and tattoos covering various parts of his body.

He spoke again, asking Newt something and then waiting for a response. Newt shrugged helplessly, because he had no idea what the man was saying, and then stumbled back nervously when the man approached and repeated the question before shoving harshly at his chest. 

“I’m sorry! Do you want my money?” Newt tried to reach into his pocket for his wallet, but he was stopped when a fist came at his face, smashing into his cheek and sending him flying to the ground. He cried out, hissing and shakily bringing his palm to his face. He could already feel the skin swelling, cheek throbbing in pain. 

They yelled some more, one with a black mohawk reaching for his pockets and digging through them, pulling out his cell phone and wallet. While he flipped through it, the shirtless one turned to face Newt on the ground, grinning and rearing his leg back to send his foot right into Newt’s gut in a violent kick. Newt choked, gasping for air and then dragging in a deep, pained breath. 

He clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself away when the shirtless one grabbed at his jacket, pulling Newt onto his back. The force of it wrenched the top buttons of Newt’s shirt, leaving his upper chest exposed. The man recoiled at the sight of his tattoos, calling out to his companions before sneering at Newt and pulling a switchblade from his back pocket. 

Newt didn’t have to be a genius to realize this was about to go from a mugging to something far, far worse.

He didn’t even get the knife into Newt’s skin when a shot rang out. Newt stared in horror at the burst of blood that came from his attacker’s chest, and the small hole that had suddenly appeared right in the middle. He let out a choked noise, listing to the side before crumpling on the ground next to Newt. 

Unable to stop himself, Newt screamed, scrambling out from under the body and trying to tear his eyes away from the sight. Xue and Hui Zhong were approaching, the other two men long gone since the first shot. Xue crouched down next to him, reaching out and settling Newt’s glasses back onto his face. Newt has been so terrified that he hadn’t even realized they’d fallen off at some point during the altercation.

He snapped his eyes to Xue’s, body trembling, and then blurted, “was that necessary?”

“Probably not,” Xue said, pulling Newt to his feet. 

“How did you find me?”

“We turned on your phone’s GPS,” Xue dusted Newt off, adjusting his shirt for a bit and then grabbing his arm to pull him away from the gruesome scene. “I think it’s time to go home,” she said, pulling her phone out with her other hand while Hui Zhong flanked Newt on the other side. 

Xue’s phone conversation with Hannibal didn’t last very long, and was made entirely in Cantonese--most likely to keep Newt from listening in. By the time she hung up, they were back in the main part of the city and heading to where they’d parked the car. 

“Hannibal wants to see you when we get home,” Xue said as she hustled Newt into the back of the car. Newt tried to protest, but it was mostly half words and his lips flapping uselessly as Xue slipped into the passenger seat and Hui Zhong put the car in gear and drove. 

Walking into Hannibal’s office, Newt immediately backed right up to the door when he caught sight of the utterly livid expression on Hannibal’s face. The man approached, body taking up so much space without even trying, and Newt wished desperately that he could just curl up into a ball from the combined fear and mortification. Hannibal shoved at Newt’s chest so hard it slammed him up against the door and rattled the pictures on the wall. When Newt flinched and threw his hands up, expecting another blow, it never came.

He dropped his arms, peeking through them to see Hannibal standing there with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. After a second, Hannibal rose one hand to point a furiously shaking finger into Newt’s chest. “You’re a godamn idiot,” he hissed, “the stupidest kid I have ever met.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Newt stammered, heart pounding in his chest.

“Were you tryin’ to get yourself killed?” Hannibal boomed, throwing his arms out so suddenly that Newt flinched again and sunk down into the door. “Do you have any idea the kind of people we deal with? What do you think could have happened if they had _actually known who you were_?”

“Uh,” Newt began tentatively, offering Hannibal a crooked smile, “you would have been down one kaiju specialist?”

Hannibal straightened his back, reaching out. Newt winced, eyes falling shut and his breath catching in his throat when Hannibal cupped his chin, tilting his head up so that his injured cheek caught the light. 

“I would have been down a lot more than that, kid,” Hannibal said, and let his hand drop. “Don’t do it again.”

Newt watched as Hannibal headed for his cabinet, pulling it open to reveal rows of various kaiju products. Newt came up behind him, Hannibal’s words swimming in his head as he watched the man pull down a bottle of salve and pop it open. He turned, gesturing for Newt to come closer so that he could apply it to Newt’s cheek.

On the third swipe of the mint-scented blue kaiju skin ointment, Newt blurted, “I didn’t know you cared,” in a way that could be taken as either humor or sincerity.

Hannibal stared at Newt like he’d completely lost his mind, capping the salve and putting it back into the cabinet. “You think I’d put up with all this crap if I didn’t care?” he asked, heading for his desk to grab a tissue to wipe the residue from his hands.

Newt’s face tingled and throbbed, his stomach twisting in circles and his heart still trying to recover from the day’s stress. He was exhausted and sore and ready to climb into bed and sleep for the rest of eternity. All of that, however, was not enough to stop him from grinning like a madman at Hannibal’s words. Hannibal glanced up, glowering at the look on Newt’s face.

“Wipe that stupid grin off of your damn face and go home.”

“Can’t,” Newt made his way over to Hannibal’s desk, feeling elated, “it’s this thing that happens to me when I find out big bad mobsters actually have hearts.”

Hannibal threw a pen at him and Newt was still smiling even after he was practically chased out the door.


End file.
